


Guest Lecturer

by luvkurai



Series: University-verse [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Desk Sex, I think Hannibal must have a special notebook for ideas to mess with Will, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvkurai/pseuds/luvkurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You couldn’t have told me you were lecturing here?” He hisses. Hannibal Lecter looks up, smiles indulgently at him.<br/>“Do you often refrain from reading the syllabus?”</p><p>Sequel to House Music, Home Visit, Nightcap and Accompaniment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is specially dedicated to an anon (EDIT) named Bonnie who messaged me on tumblr early this morning to ask if this could be updated today for her birthday. You have that pretty anon to thank for this coming out today, rather than a couple weeks from now.
> 
> Happy Birthday, babe!

“Bev, can you _please_ just—give me a _break_?”

Will’s attempts at deflecting Beverly’s efforts towards getting the dirty details of his and Hannibal’s latest date, while they walk into their Topical Development of Psychology lecture, are archetypally unsuccessful. Two nights earlier, Hannibal made cherry and endive salad, herb-crusted rack of lamb, and an almond soufflé for dessert. During dinner they discussed one of Hannibal’s published works critiquing the resurgence of Freudian psychoanalysis, then the paper Will wrote as an undergraduate that cemented his position in his grad program.

This, Will told his nosy roommate. He has no plans to divulge the fact that afterwards Hannibal pinned him against the sink and licked his neck while he _tried_ to help clean up. Or that when they began to move upstairs to Hannibal’s room they didn’t even make it to the stairs before Will pulled Hannibal down to the floor and rode him atop plush carpeting. Or that there’s a two-day-old hickey blooming on his hipbone, another at the base of his neck.

It’s Thursday, three weeks after Hannibal and Will first met in the club. Will left Hannibal late Tuesday night, despite the enticing invitation to stay, which would have undoubtedly included actually _making_ it to Hannibal’s bed and having another go there. But he’s gotten behind on his work since they started dating. While Hannibal provides, among many other things, an outlet for throwing around his ideas surrounding the Ripper, the multiple dates a week, nighttime phone calls, sexing (and resulting distraction that consumes a large portion of the rest of his time) is throwing a bit of a wrench in the timeline for putting out his rough draft. Having a large portion of Wednesday to himself was beneficial.

Honestly, it is a surprise that Beverly has deigned to attend this class. The only person with any interest in the course is Alana, for the rest of them its just a spare credit. Bev generally skips.

There is little question surrounding her motives. She takes hold of Will’s arm before quickly remembering herself and backing off microscopically. Says, “For _god sakes, Will_. Stop telling me about the _food_ he made and tell me what else you ate—“

“Uh… Will…” Brian, overtly uncomfortable from the conversation, cuts Bev off, staring at the lecturer’s podium.

_Holy fuck._

Will rushes over, turning his head down as his fellow students watch him go with mild curiosity. To approach a lecturer, especially a guest lecturer that has yet to demonstrate his tolerance (or lack thereof) for graduate students, is more than a bit gutsy. 

“You couldn’t have told me you were lecturing here?” He hisses. Hannibal Lecter looks up, smiles indulgently at him.

“Do you often refrain from reading the syllabus?” Will flushes. His first reaction had honestly been that Hannibal had somehow forced his way into the lineup of lecturers. The reality is a bit mind-blowing; that regardless of whether or not Will had been in the club that night, weeks earlier, he still would have crossed paths with Hannibal. Serendipitous.

“Sorry…” He mumbles, looking at his hands. He gathers a small bit of courage and forces his head upright. There is a shy smile on his face when he says, “I really am pleased to see you.”

The tips of the doctor’s mouth quirk up into an enclosed smirk. “If you would be so kind as to sit down, Mr. Graham. The lecture will be starting soon.” Professional. With only the slightest hint of—Will hopes desperately that he isn’t reading into it—flirtatiousness.

Still, Hannibal winks when he steps away from the podium. Will winks back before turning away to join his friends in the third row. Closer than they normally sit, to his gratification. He would sit on the floor in front of the podium, just to be closer to Hannibal.

_Pull yourself together, Will._

Hannibal seems to have gone full-scale academic upon entering the environment. When he decides it’s time for the lecture to start, he doesn’t call for everyone to quiet down. He just starts talking, listing off names and asking what they have in common.

He gives the answer before anyone can even raise their hands. Not that they would. This lecture is already so far above the heads of almost everyone here.

Will himself is having a bit of an issue concentrating, which is new. He hears what Hannibal is saying, a general discussion of the ways analysis of serial murder cases have changed over the last five centuries, but none of the specific information is sticking, and whenever he tries to take notes he gets distracted by the sheer sound of the words sailing through his ears upon the man’s fluid accent. Then, he can’t help but look up and just _stare._ His pen leaves his notebook and scratches absently against his hair follicles, curling around a few stray strands. His mouth falls slightly open in a slow exhale that wisps across his lips in a simulation of fingertips. He leans frontward. Places an arm over his notebook and moves forward in his seat until he reaches the edge.

Hannibal turns his back on the audience to stride from the podium to the chalk board behind him. With a piece of chalk, he writes out the names of three serial killers that Will recognizes only vaguely.

When he turns from the board, his eyes fall pointedly on Will. A stern gaze that shoots adrenaline through his veins and passion through his bones. An eyebrow raises subtlety; the resonant smile is only barely contained.

That man is the most beautiful thing Will has ever seen.

When the lecture ends, Will realizes that he has spent essentially the last hour staring at Hannibal. _Well done._ Bev tries to hang behind when it becomes apparent that is what Will plans on doing. It takes both Brian and Alana to get her out of the room. He waits until most of the room is empty before approaching the desk.

“What are you doing for lunch?” Will asks. Hannibal smiles.

“I am meeting with a former colleague in twenty minutes.”

“Oh…” The walk to anywhere with the doctor’s caliber of food would take at least ten minutes. Lunch is out of the question, then. “Well…I’ll see you Saturday, then?”

Hannibal nods but his face looks anything but dismissive. When Will ventures to meet his eyes, the man smiles at him a bit wider and oh _god_ there is something about it that sends a shock of arousal down his spine. Hannibal sees this and his smiles widens. Leans over the podium.

“Do you not have any more classes today?” The auditorium is empty now; there are no more classes scheduled in it for the day and the janitors won’t arrive until a bit later.

“I—uh, I have a statistics lecture, but I was going to skip it—“

“Naughty.”

 _Woah._ Is he imagining things or did Hannibal just _purr?_ Will looks behind him; the room has emptied. When he looks back, Hannibal stands upright again, though the look on his face has intensified more than anything.

“Come here, Will.”

He should feel ridiculous, but he stumbles over himself to get to Hannibal’s side of the podium. A pitiful attempt at a kiss is made, but Hannibal catches his shoulder with his palm and presses him downwards towards the floor. Will could not be more willing.

Nervousness makes his fingers fumble as he works at the fly of Hannibal’s expensive trousers. The man aids him, pushing his own briefs out of the way to draw his dick out. Will takes over from there, gripping the base and pumping it a few times to spread the precum and watch it further engorge. Then, he lets his tongue flick out. It licks at the head, straying to the underside as Will’s mouth falls open around it. He’s a bit ashamed of it, but he enlisted the internet’s help to understand how to correctly give a blow job. The pornography was gaudy, but it did help.

He takes in the first inch before looking up at Hannibal. When his teeth graze, as lightly as possible, the man jerks. Undoubtedly the most unguarded reaction he has ever pulled from him. He would smile, if his mouth weren’t busy sucking.

“ _Good Will_ ,” he murmurs with an accentual jerk of his hips. Will moans around the intrusion, leaning forward a bit more. This is the first time he’s done this for Hannibal—or anyone—and he is unsurprisingly terrible at it. The praise, albeit undeserved, makes the building arousal in his stomach intensify, cock hardening and straining against his jeans.

Fingers weave in his hair. Knead at his scalp in calming circles that force his eyes closed with a thud. He loses himself to sensation, the incessant twitching of Hannibal’s cock against the roof of his mouth, the smooth feel of the flesh against his tongue when he rocks forward, farther each time.

When the head _finally_ hits the back of his throat, the grip turns harsher, tugging Will back and off his erection. He can’t help but feel disappointed, wanting to make an attempt at swallowing down Hannibal’s seed, but the breathless look on his face that he sees when he looks up is worth it.

A string of cum and wet saliva stretches across the inch between Will’s mouth and Hannibal’s dick. He notices it with a bit of embarrassment, but Hannibal’s thumb wipes it away before he can do it himself. Only then does he realize that he hasn’t been breathing. The air floods into him too quickly, leaves his cheeks bright red and his eyes darting and glazed over.

“Get up, Will.” The command comes suddenly. “I want to fuck you on the desk.”

When he appears to be moving too slowly for Hannibal’s liking, he grips onto Will’s shirt and pulls him up into the messy kiss they didn’t share earlier. It is brief, but more than satisfying, before Will allows himself to be bent over the desk, pants and boxers pushed down to hang strenuously around his knees.

Sarcasm bubbles up Will’s throat, coming far more potent than usual, “Is this a kink of yours? Should I be calling you professor?— _ah!_ ” Is promptly cut off by Hannibal wrapping a hand around his scrotum and squeezing sporadically.

“I’m a doctor.” There’s an edge to his voice but Will easily imagines the smirk plastered across his face.

He can’t help but clench around Hannibal’s single finger when it pushes into him, feels the telltale slickness of lube. Snorts and says, “You came prepared.”

“I did hope.” Will is truly thankful—solely the slickness of Will’s spit covering Hannibal’s cock would do little to ease the way. A second finger, bent slightly, allows Hannibal to begin scissoring at his ass. Will moans, the pain is not terribly intense but the sensation pulsing through him is. He presses backwards only to have Hannibal’s hand pin his lower back roughly to the wood. A chuckle washes over him, warm. “Patience, darling.”

The third finger slides in easily and stays for only a few seconds before all three pull out. For a long moment, nothing happens. Will remains silently pinned and writhing on the desk, aching to be filled. Then, the hand on his back disappears as Hannibal uses both elbows to brace himself over Will.

The initial penetration is almost too much for him, cock hard and hanging between his legs without even the slightest hint of friction. When hips meet his ass with a slap his back arches up of the table, into Hannibal’s lips. Teeth capture the nape of his neck. Clamp down for only a split second and it doesn’t hurt, not _really,_ but it is so surprising that a reflex shocked scream breaks from his lungs.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , please—“

Lips move again against his flesh in response, almost threatening. “What do you want, Will?”

“I need—“ He gasps. “Fuck me _harder._ ”

He willingly obliges. Thrusts into his hole in quick jerks that consistently hit Will’s prostrate. Already over-sensitized and _ready_ from having his mouth fucked it only takes another love bite on his neck, a companion groan from Hannibal, to send him over the edge.

With his lover still fucking him, the orgasm draws out even longer. Body wracked continuously with bursts of earth-shattering pleasure. Will doesn’t even notice the other man cumming until he collapses atop him on the desk to press light little kisses about his inexplicably bared shoulder.

Before pulling out, he kisses the back of Will’s head. Will feels the inhalation that comes with it.

With Hannibal no longer atop him, shielding him, Will feels terrified that someone will come in and see him in this state of undress. He tugs his trousers back up his legs quickly, without wiping the semen from his hole. If Hannibal disapproves (which he must), he doesn’t say anything.

“Where are you planning on living next year?” Hannibal asks as Will bends to wipe his mess from the floor.

“Not sure…Our lease runs out in two months and Brian is getting a job in Virginia, so the rest of us’ll have to move to a smaller place.”

Will stands and Hannibal hums. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I would appreciate it if you would at least consider moving in with me.”

Will’s heart skips a beat. “ _Seriously?”_

 _Oops._ That came out much ruder than intended, Hannibal has just taken him completely by surprise. Will honestly just didn’t think that was the sort of relationship they were in, that Hannibal considers him worthy of such an offer.

Hannibal doesn’t seem offended, or even surprised. “You are aware of how large my home is. For just I to live there is insufferably profligate.”

Will drops his eyes to his bag, slides his notebook of the table and presses it against his chest. It’s the answer he expected, but not really the one he wanted. A thumb presses to his temple, catching a bead of sweat before it can roll down the curve of his nose. He looks up into Hannibal’s eyes as the doctor steps forward.

“I would very much like to live with you, William. Obviously you have quite a long time to consider. Please do not feel pressured to make a decision now, nor to make one over another. I will be utterly unoffended if you refuse.”

Emboldened by the typical confidence spurred by Hannibal fucking him, Will takes a step forward to nuzzle into Hannibal’s neck.

He decides to be honest: “I’ll think about it.”

 

When he gets back to his room later, he fishes out the class syllabus from the back of his binder, where he placed it at the beginning of the semester. Skims down it until he arrives at the correct date.

_Topical Relevance of Psychology_

_Class 17, March 12_

_Historical Relevance of Serial Murder Analysis_

_Lecturer: Dr. Genevieve Smith_


	2. Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woooah is that PLOT, approaching from the horizon???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been referring to this as an 'extra' chapter, because it is very unlike all the other parts of the series, and it is also quite a bit shorter. 
> 
> However, it is extremely important. I hope it answers some of your questions.

Before Will can leave the lecture hall, Hannibal makes sure to run his fingers through the boy’s hair. Works a bit of the sweat out of it. He still looks breathless, bits of lingering arousal lighting up his eyes in a way he can’t seem to hide. Not like Hannibal can.

“Saturday,” he says, and Will nods, rushing from the room. Hannibal would have liked Will to show him to the location of his meeting. He knows very well where it is, but the offer would have been appreciated. Though, after bending him roughly over a desk, that may have been too much to expect.

So he watches Will go without a word. Absently gathers his things up before striding out. In the hallway, Will is nowhere to be seen, though he suspects he may be in retreat in the bathroom at the end of the corridor to clean himself up. Hannibal considers entering the bathroom to check, or perhaps waiting outside for Will to emerge, but he’s already running late for his meeting.

Two flights of stairs down, he forces himself to push as many resounding thoughts of Will Graham from his mind as possible before knocking on the door.

“Ah, Dr. Lecter, please come in,” a voice responds. Hannibal smiles indulgently at Jack Crawford as he enters the office. He may not entirely appreciate the man’s personality and speech patterns (a bit too brash), but he is continuously of use to him. It was Crawford that aided Hannibal in taking Dr. Smith’s place teaching that days lecture. The man wanted him to come by the university to ask him something and Hannibal requested to teach a class (after making sure to check Will’s schedule of course).

The man only does odd jobs for the Psychology department at the university, normally working with the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit—the very people chasing Hannibal. He has been playing the man for a couple of years now, working towards eventually being brought in on a case so as to hone his evasive skills a bit more efficiently. He has been fine thus far, but he would prefer to posses as much knowledge of his adversaries as possible.

“I trust the lecture went well?” Crawford asks briskly.

“As you say, though I wondered why the course was structured in such a way that it only touched on that particular topic today, so late in the course.”

Crawford shrugs, uncaring as he obviously has no part in the planning. Hannibal sits across the desk from him, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his knees expectantly. He has no intention of spending all day here.

“I believe you asked for a favor?”

Jack sits back, correctly reading his body language. “There’s someone I would like for you to speak with. He’s been having some problems lately and I think you could help.”

There is a pause, as he turns in his seat to retrieve a file. He places it on the table and opens it. “His name is Will Graham.”

This does surprise Hannibal. Jack is blatantly unaware of his and Will’s relationship (how could he possibly know?) and it would be unwise to tell him. Hannibal leans forward, inwardly curious as to what Jack has to say about his boy.

“He’s a student here and I think he has a lot of potential. A real knack for the grittier stuff that would come in handy in this sort of field. I’m his dissertation moderator; he’s doing an original analysis on the Chesapeake Ripper. A couple weeks ago a friend of his—Alana Bloom—came to me with concern for him. Apparently he’s been… a bit out of it lately. She thinks he’s having nightmares.”

Hannibal is very aware of this; though he would never tell Will, he has noticed the boy twitching in his sleep, crying out from time to time. Normally he can be quelled by a half-rousing shake on the shoulder, but oftentimes Hannibal can do nothing short of waking him entirely. Hannibal had is suspicions before Jack informed him of the apparent tie between the nightmares and Will’s dissertation. It is good to have them confirmed.

“I asked Mr. Graham if he would prefer to change topics—it’s a bit late to do so, but it isn’t impossible. He refused, said he was fine.”

With his knowledge of Jack Crawford as well as Will, it is very easy to imagine the way the conversation unfolded. Jack, with his over-bearing attitude, asking meek, young William if the Ripper is too much for him to handle. With a tone of condescension, no doubt. Hannibal is unsure what Jack could gain from Will intensively studying the files, but there is something else going on. Perhaps Jack believes Will possesses the capacity to catch him, someday.

Hannibal could see that happening, with a sense of amusement, if the boy were not already linked to him so tightly. It is his own luck, that he met Will when he did.

Three weeks ago, he followed a potential victim into a club. The plan was to slip drugs into his drink to leave him swaying, as if drunk, but not unconscious. It would have been easy to then lead him from the club under the context of him helping him home. The man sat at one end of the bar, and Hannibal placed himself at the other end, unwittingly seating himself beside messily dressed Will Graham.

He then set about blending, buying a drink for himself and the boy who was meant to be merely a component of his camouflage. That had lasted for all of about two minutes, until he spared a moment to speak with Will. Learned of the topic of his studies. Then, he could hardly tear his eyes away.

William can be…distracting, to say the least. He is attractive enough, but there’s something about the way he carries himself, the way he speaks with reticent intelligence, that appeals to Hannibal.

Seducing a slightly intoxicated Will Graham was easy enough.

There was an instant, before he and Will departed the club for more sequestered surroundings, when he sighted the target across the club. Considered leaving before Will returned. But then, his target could die another day, whereas leaving Will Graham would end any and all possible developments. So he rolled the dice.

“I see. What would you like me to do?”

“If you could just…Talk with him, I think it would help a lot.” He is beating around the bush.

“Would you like me to psychoanalyze Mr. Graham, Jack? Gauge his mental state?”

Crawford laughs, shaking his head slightly. “I want you to do whatever you think would benefit him, doctor. Can you help me out?”

Hannibal takes a silent moment to consider. Something like this would undoubtedly change his relationship with Will. He is unsure of his intentions towards his lover. Sometimes he thinks he would be lovely prepared with arugula and mint, but most often he thinks that would be such a waste. He remembers the unadulterated pleasure experienced when he catches Will off guard. Pretty, fragile Will Graham. Ripe with intellectual potential and yet undeniably perfect when begging to be _fucked harder, oh please._ If anyone else begged in such a way, so garish and loud, he would find it entirely repellent, but Hannibal nearly pines to hear it from Will.

“I suppose I am wondering the reasoning behind me, as your choice. Does the Psychology Department not possess enough suitable candidates for an informal therapist?”

Jack hums. “I’ll be frank: I want Will to stay on topic. You have experience with this sort of stuff, so I believed it made sense to bring you in.”

When the two of them discuss the artistry of the Chesapeake Ripper murders, Hannibal cannot help but feel aroused at the pureness of Will’s understanding. Will _knows_ him, even if he himself does not see it. He could not possibly throw something like that away, by ending his life, without due cause.

Besides, Hannibal is not in the habit of killing those close to him. Furthermore, Will is anything but the swine he normally targets. Despite all common sense, he can see them having a long term relationship—hence the reasoning for asking Will to move in with him, despite how risky it would be. Being away from him for extended periods of time is unpleasant, even after only three short weeks of knowing him.

His young lover interests him, in nearly every way conceivable. Hannibal enjoys pushing and prodding at him to see how reacts—showing up in his lecture hall today was one of those such actions. Perhaps this _playing at therapy_ could induce yet another fascinating response.

“I must admit, my curiosity about this Mr. Graham is piqued,” he finally says. “I would be happy to help.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I gave bitches teacher!Kink. Bitches love teacher!Kink. 
> 
> luvkurai.tumblr.com


End file.
